A Modern Man Who Got Transmigrated Into the Murim World

He recognized it again?

When he had met the Saintess of the Demon Cult, she also recognized the Jade of Celestial Blood, and it felt like more and more people were able to identify it.

But why was he so shocked?

Swallowing nervously, Jo-hwi continued speaking.

“Master, do you know what this bead is?”

“……”

Master Brahma, who had been trembling with wide eyes, looked utterly terrified, as if he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

As he staggered, unable to keep himself steady, several monks gathered around to support him, equally taken aback.

There were so many things Jo-hwi wanted to ask, but he decided to wait until Master Brahma calmed down.

After about half an hour had passed, Master Brahma finally composed himself enough to speak.

“…Would you be willing to meet with the Abbot?”

Jo-hwi’s eyes gleamed with interest.

The monk had changed the way he referred to himself, from *Nonap* (humble monk) to *Soseung* (small monk). Although both terms conveyed humility, *Soseung* was a more self-deprecating expression.

Jo-hwi sensed from this shift that the monk knew more than he let on.

“This isn’t a conversation to have here. Please, come up the mountain.”

This was a welcome development for Jo-hwi.

After all, his goal was to meet the leaders of Shaolin.

While the situation had taken an unexpected turn, the fact that he’d now be meeting the Shaolin Abbot directly was certainly good news.

“Understood.”

Jo-hwi followed Master Brahma through the Shaolin temple gates.

Upon entering, the scene that greeted him made Jo-hwi’s face light up with wonder.

Most martial sects divided their grounds into inner and outer areas. This was to protect against intruders by having an additional wall inside, and to create a hierarchy, fostering a sense of belonging and competition.

But Shaolin had no such inner and outer distinction.

The temples of Shaolin, each hall, seemed to be situated freely.

Some temples were tucked into the shadows beneath the ridges, while others clung precariously to jagged cliffs.

It was a mysterious sight, but it also exuded the unshakable confidence of Shaolin, a refusal to compromise for the sake of defense.

Though Shaolin had momentarily retreated in the face of Huashan’s rise, the prestige that Shaolin had historically commanded in the martial world was still unmatched.

As Jo-hwi and Master Brahma walked further, reaching a wide martial training ground, loud shouts filled the air.

“Hah! Taah! Haaah!”

Hundreds of monks, neatly lined up, practiced their martial arts with intense focus and precision.

Jo-hwi wrinkled his nose and covered his ears.

Did Shaolin martial arts always have to be practiced with such yelling?

In fact, most Shaolin martial arts techniques included *Hu* (roars). This powerful breathing, resonant and robust, was the foundation of Shaolin martial arts, as it strengthened the spirit and fostered discipline.

Occasionally, some particularly gifted individuals with a unique aptitude for *Hu* emerged.

These individuals often had the chance to learn the *Lion’s Roar*, one of the most distinctive techniques among Shaolin’s Seventy-Two Arts.

“Haaaah! Hoooph! Haaaah!”

The short monk at the front was one such individual, Jo-hwi observed.

Despite his short and stocky build, his voice could outdo any modern loudspeaker.

With his attention briefly fixed on this sight, Jo-hwi soon moved past the reception hall and Arhat Hall, arriving at the Abbot’s quarters where the Shaolin Abbot resided.

“Amitabha.”

Master Brahma recited quietly. The monk guarding the quarters stepped forward with a respectful bow.

“Greetings, Master Brahma.”

“Is the Abbot inside?”

“Yes, he is. Please enter. However, this benefactor…”

The monk’s eyes sharpened as he looked Jo-hwi up and down.

“There is no need to question outsiders. I’ll take full responsibility, so step aside.”

“…Understood.”

Jo-hwi followed Master Brahma into the Abbot’s quarters.

The first thing to catch Jo-hwi’s eye was a bamboo staff leaning against one side of the room.

Ordinarily, bamboo staffs were long and straight, but this one was twisted in an unusual shape, growing in bends and curves.

It emitted a faint glow, likely from the green jade embedded at the top.

Jo-hwi felt as though he were finally witnessing the true majesty of Shaolin, renowned as the pinnacle among martial sects.

After all, he was now seeing the Green Jade Buddhist Staff of Shaolin, an item that most martial artists only dreamed of encountering once in their lives.

“Amitabha, greetings to the Abbot.”

Abbot Gongcheon, the Shaolin Abbot.

The elder brother of the famous Master Gonggong of the Seven Sages, he led Zen Buddhism with his enlightenment that reached the heavens.

Yet, his appearance was surprisingly unassuming.

Rather than wearing elaborate robes, he donned a worn-out yellow robe.

His physique and features were those of an ordinary old monk you might find anywhere.

If they had not met in the Shaolin Abbot’s quarters, Jo-hwi would never have believed this humble monk was the Abbot of Shaolin.

“Hahaha… Welcome. It’s rare to see Master Brahma here. What brings you all of a sudden?”

Master Brahma held the position of the guest reception hall master.

His duty was to welcome the constant influx of pilgrims.

This made him an extremely busy man, unlike other high-ranking members.

The concern in Master Brahma’s eyes deepened.

“Abbot, I wish to set aside my position as guest reception hall master today.”

“Amitabha, what do you mean by that?”

Master Brahma reached into his robes, took out something, and let out a low sigh.

It was a dark prayer bead.

Covered in a somber black glow, it was carved with unusual symbols.

Yet, these were not ordinary Buddhist symbols.

They represented Asura, the demon who led other devils, and Sakra Devanam, who fought against him!

“Lower Courtyard!”

The usually composed Shaolin abbot, Kongtian Dashi, suddenly stood up and respectfully clasped his hands together in a greeting.

“Dalma Hawon.”

The Dalma Hawon, those who protect Shaolin from the shadows, had now revealed themselves.

Kongtian Dashi, with a face full of reverence, spoke again, his tone heavy with awe.

“Amita Buddha, I did not expect the Jike Dangju (guest hall chief) to be part of the Dalma Hawon. But has something happened to Shaolin?”

The Dalma Hawon was a group that only appeared in times of dire need for Shaolin, and they operated in the shadows. If they had come forth now, it surely meant that Shaolin was in danger!

Abbot Beom Seungdae, startled by the sudden reverence in Kongtian Dashi’s voice, replied hurriedly, trying to downplay his importance.

“I am merely a humble, low-ranking member of the Dalma Hawon, a Wuyoung Seung (shadowless monk). I am tasked with observing the outside world and gathering intelligence. I am not a Pama Seung (Demon-breaking monk), and the respect you show is far too much for me.”

Kongtian Dashi shook his head resolutely.

“Amita Buddha, how can any Shaolin disciple stand against the Dalma Hawon, who have protected Shaolin for a thousand years? But enough of that—please tell me, what is this all about?”

Beom Seungdae’s face grew serious as he locked eyes with the visitor.

“There was a time, in the long history of Shaolin, when we faced an existential crisis, a threat of total annihilation.”

Kongtian Dashi looked shocked.

“The greatest disaster in martial history was the ‘Battle of the Heavenly Demon Sect.’ But even then, Shaolin never surrendered its gates to demons.”

“Is there something… I don’t know? Another disaster?” Kongtian Dashi asked.

Beom Seungdae shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t a calamity known to the world, not like a great bloodbath. It was something else, something much darker.”

Kongtian Dashi’s brow furrowed with confusion.

Beom Seungdae paused for a moment before continuing, his voice dropping in tone.

“It all began with a single divine person.”

He then recounted the hidden history of the Dalma Hawon.

“One day, a martial artist appeared at Shaolin and demanded that we hand over the weapon of the Jade Emperor, Zheze Tian’s law treasure.”

The “Zheze Tian’s law treasure” referred to a sacred item of unimaginable value, something the Dalma Hawon would never surrender. Naturally, the monks trained in the secret Buddhist martial arts, the Pama Seung, fought against him in an intense battle.

However, despite their legendary techniques, they were overwhelmed by the power of this lone opponent, who seemed to transcend human abilities.

“He was not just a martial artist, he had reached a state beyond the limits of normal human understanding, almost divine in nature.”

At this point, Kongtian Dashi was taken aback.

“You mean, the Martial God of the Heavenly Demon Sect—he was defeated?”

Beom Seungdae nodded gravely.

“Yes. And after the battle, when the chaos subsided, something strange happened. The necklace the Martial God wore began to glow with an ancient, auspicious light.”

“A necklace?” Kongtian Dashi asked, his confusion deepening.

Beom Seungdae simply nodded as he continued.

“Although we do not know why, at that moment, the divine person who had vanquished the Martial God looked at the necklace and immediately fled the scene, without a word.”

“This story is… truly unbelievable,” Kongtian Dashi muttered.

“Indeed. It seemed almost too fantastical. But what’s even more incredible is that the necklace the Martial God wore is now hanging around this guest’s neck.”

Beom Seungdae pointed toward the person who had entered with him.

Kongtian Dashi’s eyes widened in disbelief as he scrutinized the necklace. “This… this cannot be.”

Beom Seungdae was unwavering.

“It’s true. And there is one more thing. The body of the Martial God is still within Shaolin.”

“What? The body of the Martial God… here in Shaolin?” Kongtian Dashi exclaimed, astonished.

“Yes, it remains here.”

Kongtian Dashi’s shock was evident. “Amita Buddha… are you saying that the corpse of the Martial God is still in Shaolin?”

Beom Seungdae nodded gravely.

“Yes.”

At that moment, an idea flashed in the eyes of the guest.

“Is it possible that… the body of the Martial God still has something to offer?”

It was as Jiuhui had expected.

“Amita Buddha, yes, it is true. The necklace that is now worn by the guest is identical to the one that was with the Martial God. I can swear on my life to this.”

Kongtian Dashi swallowed hard before speaking.

“Hmm… at least I am familiar with the reach of the Green Jade Buddha’s authority. But where exactly is this place?”

“Dalma Dong, Master Abbot.”

Kongtian Dashi’s face turned incredulous.

Dalma Dong—wasn’t that the place where monks often practiced facing the wall, deep in meditation, coming and going freely?

“Amita Buddha, but also… the corpse of the Martial God is somewhat an inaccurate term.”

“Hmm?”

“It still looks exactly as it did in his lifetime, Master Abbot.”

Jiuhui froze, his mind reeling.

How could the Martial God, someone from an age long past, still have his body preserved after so many years?

Even Kongtian Dashi, who was not of modern times, struggled to grasp it.

“Amita Buddha… this is an extraordinary matter indeed.”

There were many strange tales from the world of martial arts, but this one was entirely beyond comprehension for him.

Jiuhui looked at Beom Seungdae.

“May I see the site where this is happening?”

Kongtian Dashi was also staring at Beom Seungdae, his curiosity piqued.

To witness the Martial God, a legendary figure, in person was an irresistible temptation for someone as deeply versed as Kongtian Dashi. But the location was surely under the control of the Dalma Hawon.

“Amita Buddha, this is why I have come to you. It is no simple matter to bring an outsider into the Fuma Dong,” Beom Seungdae explained.

“Fuma Dong?” Kongtian Dashi asked, surprised.

That was a hidden chamber deep within Dalma Dong, a place where demons or monks who had fallen into depravity were confined. But this was from a time before the establishment of the martial arts alliance.

Now, any rogue that disturbed the peace would be captured or hunted by the martial arts alliance. Therefore, Fuma Dong was no longer under Shaolin’s control.

“Amita Buddha, so you’re saying the body of the Martial God is inside Fuma Dong?” Kongtian Dashi asked, still in disbelief.

“Yes,” Beom Seungdae confirmed.

“Hah…” Kongtian Dashi was stunned.

According to Shaolin’s rules, no outsider was ever allowed into Dalma Dong. So, the question still lingered in his mind.

“Amita Buddha, then why did the Dalma Hawon decide to take this guest into the secret place of Fuma Dong?”

Beom Seungdae paused for a moment before answering.

“Amita Buddha… it was because of the Martial God’s last will.”

“The Martial God’s last will?” Kongtian Dashi’s irritation grew as secrets he did not know kept spilling out.

As the abbot of Shaolin, it was unsettling to realize how much he was unaware of, especially regarding such a crucial matter. The fate of Shaolin itself seemed to be at stake.

“His last will was that if anyone appeared wearing a necklace identical to his own, they should be brought to his remains.”

“Ah…” Kongtian Dashi’s gaze deepened.

In the entire history of Shaolin, no outsider had ever been brought into Dalma Dong unless they were a criminal. Shaolin’s rules and laws were the strictest in the martial world. This decision weighed heavily on Kongtian Dashi’s mind.

“Amita Buddha… does this mean that the Jike Dangju (guest hall chief) has the authority to represent the Dalma Hawon?” Kongtian Dashi asked.

“Dalma Hawon is the only group in the martial world that knows the true nature of the Martial God. Despite his name, the Martial God was not a demon. He… *sigh*… Amita Buddha… anyway, Master Abbot, anyone from the Dalma Hawon will surely follow the will of the Martial God,” Beom Seungdae responded gravely.

With a stern expression, Kongtian Dashi nodded, then lifted the Green Jade Buddha statue that stood in the corner of the room.

“Amita Buddha, I will allow the guest to enter Fuma Dong.”

Jiuhui, though anxious to confirm the truth of the Martial God’s remains, understood the gravity of the situation. After all, the existence of the Icicle Blood Jade and the Martial God was not something that could be handled lightly. So, he clasped his hands together in a gesture of respect.

At this moment, the only option was to first verify the Martial God’s remains and then investigate the matter of the “Rulai Jin Tuo.”

“Thank you.”

With Beom Seungdae leading the way, Kongtian Dashi and Jiuhui followed him.

* * *

“… Damn.”

Jiuhui couldn’t help but be startled by the chanting of mantras echoing in the dark, damp cave. The low murmur of chanting seemed to come from every direction.

To think that Shaolin disciples would willingly endure solitary meditation in such a place for years, chewing on the Wall Gongdan in complete silence!

It made sense if they had broken the rules and were imprisoned, but why would anyone willingly come to Dalma Dong for training? Could they really be in their right mind?

The average person wouldn’t last three days in such an environment.

Step, step.

Amid the chanting of mantras, the sound of Beom Seungdae’s footsteps echoed through the cave.

With his hands clasped in prayer, he moved forward with a steady and deliberate pace. His face carried an intense seriousness, like a monk deeply immersed in the pursuit of enlightenment—his every movement was disciplined and precise, showing how much he valued this moment.

As he walked with such gravity, he suddenly stopped, reaching out to activate a mechanism on the wall.

**Kuuuuu…**

With a tremendous vibration, dust fell from the ceiling, and a massive stone gate revealed itself on the wall.

As the gate opened fully, large characters were revealed, carved directly into the stone: **”Fuma Dong”**.

Once the stone gate of Fuma Dong was completely open, a horrendous stench immediately wafted out.

Jiuhui recoiled in horror, pinching his nose. Kongtian Dashi, in a hurry, also blocked his nose with the sleeve of his robe.

“Amita Buddha, this is **yujangdok** (oil poison). It’s not fatal, but it can exhaust one’s body and mind. If we use our internal energy to expel it, it won’t be a problem,” Kongtian Dashi explained.

True to his words, once Jiuhui used his internal energy to dispel the poison, his head quickly cleared.

Upon entering the Fuma Dong, Jiuhui’s eyes widened at the sight of a massive cavern. The vast space was filled with stalactites, an entirely different world compared to the narrow Dalma Dong.

“From this point on, you must follow only the path I take,” Beom Seungdae instructed, his face now filled with even more caution.

Kongtian Dashi’s voice, full of admiration, came from behind.

“Hah, I am surprised to see mechanisms in such a place, and that they are still functioning?”

“Amita Buddha, originally, Fuma Dong was a place to imprison sinners. There are many other mechanisms still intact, so please follow me closely, Master Abbot,” Beom Seungdae replied.

“I understand,” Kongtian Dashi nodded.

It wasn’t easy to follow in Beom Seungdae’s footsteps. The **yujangdok** drifted like a faint mist over the cave floor, and if they weren’t careful, they might step into it.

After walking for a while, they reached a narrower part of the cavern, where a bottomless hole came into view.

The depth of the hole was so vast that Jiuhui’s heart chilled.

Just then, Beom Seungdae’s voice rang out, sounding almost absurd.

“Amita Buddha, follow me, and jump down.”

“…What?”

Jump down into the seemingly endless abyss? Was this monk out of his mind?

“Then…”

Whoosh!

Beom Seungdae swiftly ran and leapt into the hole, his robe fluttering in the air.

The sound of wind from his descent soon reached their ears.

“…” Kongtian Dashi gave Jiuhui a steady gaze.

“Amita Buddha, he is a **Milsung** of the Dalma Hawon. His words carry more weight than gold.”

With that, Kongtian Dashi too, without hesitation, jumped into the hole.

“What the— these monks…” Jiuhui muttered in disbelief, staring at the seemingly endless hole.

After a long moment, he sighed, massaging his forehead.

“Well, I don’t know either.”

Although Jiuhui could have used his skill in **Nongongcheon** (Sky Ladder) or **Heongong Dapbo** (Void Step) to avoid the fall, he didn’t want to reveal his martial prowess in Shaolin, especially not in such a situation.

Whooooosh!

With gravity pulling him down, Jiuhui’s body was sucked into the hole at an incredible speed.

The intense wind pressure caused his body to spin uncontrollably.

It was like the sensation of falling from a high-rise building—before one would hit the ground, they would lose consciousness. Indeed, Jiuhui’s mind started to fade.

With no other choice, Jiuhui used **Cheongeunchu**, an internal technique, to stabilize his body and regain control.

His head, which had been pointing downward, slowly shifted to face upward, and he began to feel like he might survive this after all.

However, the accelerating descent from the force of gravity could not be stopped.

‘It’s deep!’ Jiuhui thought.

He had been falling for quite some time, yet the end of the hole was still nowhere in sight.

And then…

**Swish, swish, swish, swish!**

“Ugh!”

Suddenly, a tremendous shock hit, and a sensation of being bound overwhelmed him.

In the darkness, where nothing was visible, Jiuhui hurriedly activated his **Geomcheon Jeonnong Jiche** (Heavenly Sword Immense Power) to boost his internal energy, and bright white light streamed from his eyes.

“Wow!”

A vast, silver net stretched out around him.

As the master of a colossal business empire, Jiuhui immediately recognized the net for what it was.

“…Is this all **Cheonjamsa** (Heavenly Silk)?”

To his astonishment, the several layers of nets blocking the cavern were all woven from **Cheonjamsa**.

From a distance, Beom Seungdae’s voice could be heard.

“Amita Buddha, your discerning eye is quite remarkable.”

“Damn.”

How much money would all of this be worth if it were cut up and sold?

Jiuhui, having sheathed his **Geomcheon Jeonnong Jiche**, licked his lips, feeling regretful.

“This is the Fuma Dong,” Beom Seungdae continued.

As Jiuhui’s gaze shifted to the end of the gigantic net, he saw countless caves lined up in a row, all designed to imprison sinners.

“Wow…”

Once you enter, there’s no way out!

Of course, if one achieved the ultimate level of **Geombyeong** (Sword Mastery) and **Gyeonggyeong** (Sword Flight), it would be a different story, but attaining that level was no easy feat.

Moreover, anyone imprisoned here would certainly lose their internal energy and meridians, making escape unthinkable.

“Amita Buddha, let us proceed, donor,” Beom Seungdae urged.

With those words, Beom Seungdae swiftly moved with his martial steps and passed through the net, followed by Jiuhui, who activated **Nonggung Se** (Lightning Step) to arrive at the entrance of the first cave.

Kongtian Dashi was already there, his complexion pale, frozen in place.

“…Amita Buddha! What kind of demonic energy is this!”

**Demonic energy?**

Jiuhui hurriedly heightened his perception to sense the inside of the cave, but there was no trace of the demonic energy Kongtian Dashi had mentioned.

Instead, he felt a familiar, pure, and strong aura in the air.

**”Demonic Martial Energy!”**

There was no doubt about it.

This was the same energy as his own **Mashin-gong** (Demonic Martial Art)!

“Amita Buddha, do you feel it already? Master Abbot, the remnants of the **Mashin**’s corpse are at the end of the blood pool.”

“Never in my lifetime have I encountered such pure and intense demonic energy!” Kongtian Dashi exclaimed.

Jiuhui was perplexed.

He understood the term “pure,” but “intense demonic energy”?

To Jiuhui, there seemed to be no difference between **Geomcheon Dae-sin-gong** (Heavenly Sword Immense Power) and **Mashin-gong**, as he didn’t feel much distinction in the nature or characteristics of their energies.

“Does this mean the **Geomcheon Dae-sin-gong** of Master Geomshin is actually closer to the demonic arts? Is that why I don’t feel a sense of unease?”

But that didn’t make sense either, considering he had encountered the internal martial arts of the Namgung family countless times.

Comparing **Geomcheon Dae-sin-gong** and the Namgung martial arts, their internal energy properties were not vastly different.

Rather than dwelling on these questions, Jiuhui was more curious about the demonic energy he was sensing.

“You said it was a corpse, didn’t you?”

What he was feeling now was the internal energy waves of a living martial artist utilizing their power!

“Amita Buddha, words cannot explain this. You’ll have to see it for yourself, donor.”

Jiuhui, nodding silently, took another step forward, proceeding towards the blood pool’s entrance.

Soon, Jiuhui arrived at the spot where the **Mashin-gong** energy was strongest. Beom Seungdae and Kongtian Dashi also followed closely behind.

“Here it is.”

“Ugh!”

“Hah!”

As they reached the entrance of the blood pool, both monks suddenly froze in shock and began chanting scriptures, their faces dripping with cold sweat. It was as if standing there was causing them unbearable pain.

At that moment, a voice came from between Beom Seungdae’s clenched teeth.

“Donor… please enter quickly.”

But why were they in pain?

Jiuhui briefly wondered about this, but pushed the door of the blood pool open and entered.

Thump.

In the distance, a powerful figure appeared before him.

As soon as Jiuhui saw him, an odd sensation surged from his chest, as if something familiar was stirring inside him.

To his astonishment, the being, presumed to be the **Mashin’s** corpse, was sitting cross-legged, floating in mid-air.

However…

Jiuhui’s gaze shifted to the shattered remnants of a **Buddha statue** lying beneath the figure.

**”Buddha statue?”**

He was stunned and raised his internal energy, focusing on the sight.

“Eh?”

The figure’s skin was red.

While his head appeared pale and withered, his body was covered in vibrant, fresh skin, as red as a newborn’s—almost like baby skin.

**”Hongin?”** (Red Man)

The Buddha statue…

Hongin…

This was undoubtedly the figure described by **So Wi-gang**, the scholar who spoke of the **Wolhalimju** (Moonlit Forest Lord), a martial hero wounded during the **Cheonma-gyo rebellion** and trapped in a strange valley.

Clearly, the **Mashin** who led the rebellion could not be the same as **Wolhalimju**.

Jiuhui, still confused, carefully examined the corpse of the **Mashin**.

Reacting as if he understood the true identity of the **Mashin**, Beom Seungdae, who had been battling the demonic energy, spoke up with difficulty.

“…Donor! Do you sense something?”

“Isn’t that person **Wolhalimju**?”

Beom Seungdae nodded gravely.

Given the unique appearance of the **Mashin**, Jiuhui’s reaction was expected. The rumors of **Wolhalimju** were already well-known in the martial world.

“Amita Buddha… yes. He is **Wolhalimju**, and at the same time, he is the **Mashin**.”

Still gazing at the **Mashin’s** corpse, Jiuhui asked in a flustered tone.

“But this doesn’t make sense. **Wolhalimju** was supposed to be a righteous martial artist who was wounded during the **Mashin** rebellion, right?”

“Amita Buddha…”

Beom Seungdae was hesitant to speak further.

To explain the true identity of the **Mashin**, he would have to reveal many secrets known only to the Dalma Hawon.

It was only natural that he was reluctant to divulge such sensitive information to a stranger.

Jiuhui, sensing his hesitation, took a deep breath, and slowly moved toward the **Mashin**’s corpse.

The familiar energy of **Mashin-gong** grew even thicker.

He activated his **Geomcheon Jeonnong Jiche** again.

Though the energy felt the same as his own, the level of mastery was worlds apart.

It felt far more advanced.

Here is the translation of the text to English:

—

Is this the true divine realm the Swordmaster spoke of, the Seventh Realm of the Demon God?

As he walked closer, the appearance of the Demon God became clearer.

Long, flowing white hair.

A firmly shut mouth and a strong, muscular face.

Apart from the skin that seemed to have new growth, resembling that of a child, there was nothing particularly distinctive about the appearance.

However, that was only the outward appearance.

As he approached within a single Zhang, an unimaginable, powerful aura surged, shaking Choi’s internal energy.

“Huff!”

Choi was bewildered.

Even with his state, which was close to the Ultimate Realm of Absolute Energy, to feel such pressure?

At that moment…

Sssssssss…

The body of the Demon God seemed to flow away like a mirage, or flutter like a breeze, vanishing.

Additionally, the powerful aura of Demon God’s energy he had been emitting also disappeared, as if washed away.

Where his physical body had vanished, only a necklace, emitting a bluish-green aura, remained.

“…Ah!”

It was the same.

It was the exact same necklace as the one he possessed—the Heavenly Blood Jade, indistinguishable down to the smallest detail!

The golden patterns and intertwined threads surrounding the jade were unmistakably the same as his Heavenly Blood Jade.

Whoooo—

Thud.

As the image of the Demon God completely disappeared, a breeze seemed to stir, and then the necklace dropped to the ground.

The voice of the Venerable Beomseung echoed like a scream.

“Amitabha! Ah! Demon God!”

He continued chanting prayers, honoring the Demon God.

Venerable Gongcheon, who had been beside him, also muttered quietly, praying for the Demon God’s afterlife.

“What is this!”

Choi was in a state of great confusion.

Why had the Demon God, who had maintained its appearance for centuries, suddenly vanished like a mirage at this very moment?

Choi stood frozen for quite some time, before finally walking slowly toward the Demon God’s Heavenly Blood Jade.

Wooo—

As soon as his hand touched it, the Heavenly Blood Jade reacted.

When Choi felt a shocking, tingling sensation like an electrical current, a similar phenomenon unfolded once again.

“No, again?”

Sssss—

The Heavenly Blood Jade of the Demon God transformed into light beams like a mirage, then rippled and scattered in vain.

The bluish aura swirled as if it was about to disperse, but it lingered in the air for a while, then started to be drawn toward Choi’s own Heavenly Blood Jade.

Choi’s eyes widened suddenly.

“…Kuh!”

A brutal, intense pain rushed through his head, as though his brain were shattering, causing him to stagger.

Gripping the walls of the cave, Choi massaged his aching head.

‘What is this…?’

This sensation was strangely similar to the one he had felt when he first awakened after reincarnation in the Central Plains.

Venerable Beomseung and Venerable Gongcheon approached him.

“Hah… What a strange event!”

Venerable Gongcheon, the leader of the Shaolin, spoke in amazement.

The Demon God’s remains had emitted powerful demonic energy for hundreds of years, maintaining its appearance. To see such a sight was an unparalleled experience.

And now, to witness the body disappear like this, as if reaching Nirvana… Could it be that the Demon God had achieved the same level of enlightenment as the great masters, such as Dharma, Huineng, or Huiyuan?

To see such a transcendental state, something beyond imagination, was an emotional experience that words could not express.

“Amitabha… Amitabha…”

On the other hand, Venerable Beomseung, with red eyes, kept bowing and praying fervently.

Contrary to what the world knew, the Demon God had been the greatest benefactor of the Dharma Temple.

As the temple’s benefactor, witnessing the final moments of the Demon God filled him with immeasurable emotion.

However, fulfilling the Demon God’s final wish and upholding a long-standing promise brought a sense of pride as well.

“Amitabha, it seems certain that you are the Demon God’s karmic connection. I do feel something strange has happened, but… has anything changed for you?”

Choi, who had been massaging his temples with a troubled expression, answered Venerable Gongcheon’s question.

“No. There is nothing but a sudden, inexplicable headache.”

“Hmmm…”

Choi, who had hoped to gain some great insight or information by discovering the Demon God’s last moments, now felt frustrated.

‘What a waste of time.’

He felt anger rising, realizing he had spent so much time just to witness the Demon God’s end.

Choi’s face, filled with frustration, turned toward Venerable Beomseung.

“Do you know about the Lotus Sutra?”

Without hesitation, Choi got straight to the point.

Venerable Beomseung hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“Amitabha, I do not know about that matter.”

Choi, visibly upset, responded.

“Didn’t you just acknowledge that the Demon God was Moon Haryeomju?”

“The rumors of the martial world are often distorted, with truth becoming exaggerated or altered. I have heard rumors about the Lotus Sutra, but I cannot confirm their truth.”

“Ha…”

He had clearly seen the appearance of the Demon God—or Moon Haryeomju—right in front of him.

He had clearly witnessed the reddish skin, the youthful, childlike texture of the flesh with his own eyes.

“Amitabha, may I ask why you are so intent on tracing the rumors of the Lotus Sutra?”

With a deep sigh, Choi briefly explained the circumstances.

After hearing Choi’s plight, Venerable Beomseung muttered a prayer.

“Amitabha, if it concerns such matters…”

Venerable Beomseung looked around the cave, then continued speaking.

“Look around here. He left many traces of his time here. Among those traces, the answer may lie.”

“Traces?”

“Yes. From the moment he turned to Buddhism, he stayed here, seeking to atone for his past deeds.”

The Demon God had locked himself in this ominous cave, surrounded by darkness, to spend his final years?

Choi glanced at Venerable Beomseung and Venerable Gongcheon alternately, and with a resigned sigh, he activated his Divine Sword Energy.

Tsssttttttt—

As Choi raised his sword, brilliant white energy surged from it.

“Amitabha!”

“Ha!”

The two venerables were startled, trembling in fear at the immense and overwhelming energy.

What was even more surprising was what Choi did next.

He began to use the ultimate technique of the sword to light up different corners of the cave, using his sword energy like a torch.

Was he truly using the pinnacle of swordsmanship like this?

Moreover, how could he maintain such an intense flow of energy for so long without any apparent difficulty?

“Amitabha… Is this the realm of the ultimate perfection?”

“Ha! It can’t be!”

—

This passage is from a martial arts or cultivation-based narrative, full of mysticism and energy-based martial techniques. It blends traditional Eastern concepts of spiritual enlightenment with martial arts mastery.

In an instant, releasing and maintaining the aura are two entirely different matters.

To release and sustain such powerful energy so easily is something only achievable after reaching a state of complete mental transcendence, something that would be impossible without reaching the state of “muhon.”

For a moment, the head of the Shaolin Sect, Gongcheondae, felt a tightness in his chest.

Before entering Dalma Cave, this person had introduced himself as the head of the Namgung family, and there were rumors that Namgung’s legendary figure, Cheongcheondamro, had reached the legendary “Cheongcheonan”eye.

The recent rise of the Namgung family was extraordinary.

And now, another martial artist of the highest caliber was added to this family!

Three absolute masters from a single family…

Had there ever been such a family in the long history of the martial world?

Excluding the martial god family of the Sima, no such family had existed until now. Even in the oldest schools of martial arts, this was not common.

“A royal family is going to dominate the world,” thought Gongcheondae, representing the power of the old faction.

As the head of Shaolin, he could not simply celebrate this fact.

While examining the walls of the cave, Cho Hwi suddenly looked up, startled.

“Hm?”

What he discovered were countless scribbles.

However, these writings were disjointed, with no clear structure or continuity. Most of them appeared to be fragments of the writer’s thoughts, hastily written down.

The remnants ranged from words to pictures to smudges of ink.

From these remnants, Cho Hwi could sense a complicated inner turmoil.

If the writer had been calm and collected, these thoughts would not have been left as chaotic fragments.

“Amitabha… Is there anything we can decipher from this?”

The monks of Shaolin’s Lower House had long studied these remnants.

If they could uncover even a single fragment of insight from his musings, it would undoubtedly help Shaolin’s martial arts. But they had yielded no results.

Cho Hwi frowned and spoke.

“What am I supposed to see here? These are just useless scratches.”

“Amitabha… What you seek, the healing power, is one of the powers of the demon god,” said the monk from the Lower House.

“The healing power of the demon god?”

What was this nonsense?

So, the story about the mysterious mud in the valley that healed his body was a lie?

“Did he have the ability to heal himself?”

A demon god with the ability to heal himself… the very same Demon God of the Three Swords of Heaven!

How could one defeat such a being?

How could an unnamed mysterious person have killed him in mere seconds?

Given the immense power of the Three Swords of Heaven, Cho Hwi couldn’t understand how this was possible.

“Amitabha, yes. His incomprehensible healing power was witnessed by all the monks of the Lower House,” the monk continued.

Hearing this, Cho Hwi returned to examining the walls of the cave.

Even now, Jang Il-ryong was dying in extreme pain.

If Cho Hwi could find any clues about the Demon God’s healing power, even a straw to clutch at, he would hold onto it desperately.

“…Hm?”

Cho Hwi’s gaze fixed on a particular spot.

This was definitely not scribbling, but a drawing.

However, this seemed… unusual.

– “Ugh! Such soul-shattering pain… Where am I…?”

At that moment, Cho Hwi heard a voice inside his head.

– “Ah! No! Don’t look! Turn your head away!”

What Cho Hwi had discovered was a spring painting (a type of erotic artwork).

He froze in shock, his expression one of disbelief.

“No way… Could it be the Demon God himself?”